


Future Konoha: Gaara's Alternative Life Story

by imprettyreckless1



Category: Naruto
Genre: Future, Konoha Village, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imprettyreckless1/pseuds/imprettyreckless1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaara is getting into trouble for his homicidal habits, and gets sent into the future and replaced by an identical twin in his old life. He ages the amount he goes forward, and a future Gaara goes to live in Konoha like he has always dreamed. However, this Gaara has never met Naruto or developed his way of thinking like the Gaara Naruto first meets, so his unpredictable nature and homicidal tendencies could cause havoc in his new life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sky was a crimson massacre that morning, bleeding its regrets onto the barren earth. Swarms of sand were ubiquitous, finding their way into every crevice and covering the corpses strewn on the ground in a fine shroud. In the crimson light cast by the sky, the sand appeared to be full to burst with blood, like a mosquito after gorging. An all permeating menacing silence held the scene in thrall, and the stench of blood, metallic on the air engulfed the godforsaken place. There was even the taste of blood diffusing through the air, and the air clung to the skin, like the hands of the dying grasping for help.  
There were ten corpses lain to rest on the cracked ground, all with faces twisted in agony and horror, all with uniform gaping wounds instead of hearts. There was an assortment of toys scattered like offerings near their mutilated corpses, and everything was still. Except for a small pale child with vivid red hair and feline pale black rimmed eyes clutching a teddy bear in his grasp. The child was whimpering under his breath and then cast his gaze upwards into the bloody light, filled with a primordial sense of loneliness, a great burden without end. 'Why did you leave me alone again?' He asked the corpses with sadness in his pallid eyes, 'We could have played together and had lots of fun, but now I have no one to play with. Gaara is a sad name, and I just want to stop being alone.' The small boy suddenly put a hand on head, scrunched up his face and his eyes became blood shot. He moaned, an inhuman expression of misery more intense than could ever be articulated by words, and begun to hobble away from the slaughter ground towards the town walls that were visible in the distance, hazy in the heat.  
When Gaara reached the town walls, the sentries all fled from sight and allowed him through without any impediment; they all knew who he was. The small boy scuttled through the gap between the imposing slabs of sand and peered into his hometown. The sun shone onto the houses made of sand, glimmering gold in the harsh light. The houses basked in the heat like snakes on rocks and the slit like windows were the eyes of the snake, watching Gaara unforgiving. Gaara felt their accusing gaze and slunk past to rest in one of the few shadows cast by a building, seeking respite from the glare of the village. He cradled his teddy and begun to scratch in the dirt, drawing intricate designs of ancient forests, cliffs with carved faces and leaves. Art was one of the few things that allowed Gaara to feel less alienated, and more human. He always lost track of time's winged chariot when he was drawing, and sure enough the glaring heat was gone and so was the bright light that always blinded him.  
It was cool now, and the stars were unreachable pin pricks, woven into the dark sky with glittering threads. Gaara stood up gingerly and climbed up some stairs hewn into the side of one of the houses to sit on the flat expansive roof. Up here, Gaara felt like part of the sky, and tried to become it, wanting to fly away. The stars all looked like friends, benevolently smiling down at him, and he wanted to be their friend too. But instead, he was bound to the earth, alone and unloved. Yashamaru had told him he loved him, but he'd tried to kill him and died. He had no reason to be alive, and all he could do was wander the village and endure. Apparently the only reason his mother had given birth to him was because she hated this village and he was its curse. He was just doing his job of enduring and even that terrorised the village. The small boy began to cry, standing up and walking over to the pile of rags that was not at first visible. This roof was where Gaara spent every night, close to the stars and away from the hatred infused judgement of people, curled up in his rags. He suffered crippling insomnia and rarely slept; which was good, because if he did sleep, it would take away his sense of self, the monster that lived inside him. The Shinjuku that was the source of his power would take him over if he ever shut down.  
Gaara stared at the stars for the next eight hours, wanting to be one and never able to step away from the cruel earth he lived on. When morning came he began to feel his mind writhing, which usually meant the voices would soon come. And sure enough, they begun pervading his mind with their talons, telling him to kill. He moaned, feeling murderous intent in his broken mind.  
A family appeared over the top of the stairs at just that moment, smiling and laughing, without a care in the world. Until they saw him that was. The mother saw him first, and a look of petrified horror spread through her kindly features. Her two children glanced at her to see why she had stopped in her tracks, and then they saw him. 'It's Gaara of the desert, run!' She turned to her children, 'I'll hold him back, just get out of here.' The words were barely out of her mouth before she and both her children were dead. Gaara's sand had choked the life from them quickly but effectively and now he was responsible for yet another crime scene. He was the village's biggest fear and not without reason. His sand was so powerful he could do anything he wanted, but it meant he had no one to play with and he was very lonely. He collapsed on his rags, looking down at the earth for what seemed like an eternity. He had killed so many people, and he hated how good it made him feel, that combination of endorphins and power from snuffing out a human life. It seemed to be the only thing that made him feel alive and validate his existence.  
Trying to pull himself away from the darkness in his mind, Gaara decided it was time to do something a normal six year old might do, like play foot ball with friends or eat an ice cream. Neither of those options of course, because he had no friends and didn't like ice cream, but something vaguely normal. Maybe if he snuck into his house and got a canvas, he could paint something exquisite. He took in a deep breath, hoping it would sustain him more than his broken home life ever had. He was a shadow, slipping away down the steps, through the door and into the store room of canvases and paints. The Kagekaze hated Gaara, but was proud of his artistic talents and kept his canvases here, in this artistic explosion of a room. The friendly clutter of paints, old parts of random appliances, weapons, ninja chef preparation tools and toys lulled Gaara into a state as close to happiness as possible without being happy. He begun to paint, using his forest pallet to weave an enchanting forest, with a figure with huge eye brows practising ninja skills in the foreground. The sky was blue with light fluffy clouds and other shinobi were playing in the background, smiles luminous with joy. Gaara wished he could live in his own painting, step into the luscious landscape and play with the boy with the huge eye brows. He looked friendly, and like he'd never run away from Gaara. Maybe he'd understand Gaara's pain. No one had ever managed to wound Gaara, but he hurt in his heart, and there was no ointment that could fix his loneliness. He stared into the picture intently, never wanting to look up again or avert his gaze.  
In fact, he only looked up because he heard footsteps, clunking on the hard surfaces coated in sand that characterised the village. And as soon as he looked up, he wished he hadn't, because he was gazing into the heartless cold orbs of his father.

'Hello there Gaara, I've been looking for you everywhere,' he said, his eyes never thawing,'I'd like to talk to you about the corpses.' Gaara's heart sunk. He knew he was in deep trouble, because although his father's eyes never thawed, his voice was nearly wavering, and that only happened in dire circumstances. 'Okay Daddy,' said Gaara, his eyes wide, 'Please don't hurt me.' His father coldly contemplated him, 'We shall see.' was all he said, and Gaara got up and started to follow him, heart full of lead.


	2. The Time Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaara is told about how Sand will deal with the threat he poses and he gets into a time machine, destination Konoha.

'Gaara. You can't go on killing innocent people and getting away with it. It is my duty to ensure the safety of the villagers, and you keep killing them in cold blood. You're six years old, and yet you're the biggest danger to the peace of the village we have. So we have come up with a plan to neutralise you.'   
Gaara stared at his father with sadness glimmering in his feline eyes, feeling betrayal maul his chest even though he knew his father didn't like him anyway. Was this to be another assassination attempt? His father gripping his small pale trembling hand in a vice like grip and led him through the palace, Gaara too filled with an ancient sadness to resist. The corridors twisted like intertwining serpents, and soon Gaara's mind was lost in their maze of tantalising darkness, only kept anchored to earth by the firm grip of his father. When they finally arrived at a small room deep in the palace's stomach, Gaara had long since lost any sense of where he was, and he clutched his teddy tight to him in fear.   
'We can't kill you so we decided to concoct a plan to minimalize the threat you pose. It may actually benefit you so don't look so scared,' his father said, a stern look in his eye at Gaara's incredulous but terrified expression, 'we will use a top secret machine that has taken us many years to perfect, as it does seem to be the best usage well ever find for it. It's a time machine.' Gaara's jaw dropped. 'They exist?' He asked, excitement etched in his young features. 'Yes but with major imperfections. This one ages you to the age you would be in that time and is one way. And it would do strange things to the space time continuum that we cannot fully know until someone uses it. We are going to send you to Konoha twelve years in the future to rid us of your threat. And replace you with the clone the time machine will create in this time that will live a less violent version of your life under our control.' Gaara could feel his emotions in turmoil. On the one hand, he had always expected them to find a way to get rid of him and this was the best way he could ever have imagined, but on the other hand, he felt sad that all everyone he had grown up with saw him as was a burden. 'get it over with and send me,' Gaara said, 'It's not like my existence is any use here, and I've always wanted to go to Konoha.' His father smiled in the sly way he always did and grasped his arm firmly, taking him to an unobtrusive door in the corner and carelessly brushing the cobwebs that had gathered around it. 'In there, Gaara', his father said, with a painful attempt at a smile that was more like a snarl. Gaara gulped and pushed open the door with the ominous aura of sorrow. His father shut the door behind him, and Gaara noticed that there was no handle on his side.  
So this was where Gaara's time in this time zone came to an end. A dark, gloomy room that smelt of blood, and was so dim that Gaara could only vaguely perceive what must have been the time machine. It was such an unassuming lump in the corner of such a small room, Gaara could barely believe the change it was about to bring to his life. He would finally go to the place of his dreams, and this sense of anticipation that filled him made his blood tingle. He fumbled his way over to the time machine and surveyed it with a critical eye. He assumed that he would have to sit in the chair, and the biometric indicators would show the machine who he was and take him to the time zone they wanted him to go to.  
He took a deep breath and eased himself into the chair. The biometric indicators took their time recognising him, and he was lulled into a sense of security, security that perhaps this was a hoax and his father was doing this to prove he wanted him after all. But then, suddenly the room was filled with an eery light, and an emotionless voice began counting down from ten. Tentacles bound his arms, snaking from within the arms of the chair and ensnaring his arms. When the voice reached one, his body began to lurch, and his vision became technicolour. All earthly sensations were stripped away from him, and he was filled with an ethereal sense that he was floating through time, space and the gates of chaos. Then he snapped back to a reality. The reality of future Konoha.  
He was there, in his land of dreams. He was in Konoha.


End file.
